Bleeding Hearts

by Alyxandra Harvey

  I should be craving pizza and ice-cream sundaes and grilled-cheese sandwiches. Normal stuff. But my body insisted on craving blood, even though my brain recoiled and shut down at the idea. Not to mention the empty cavern of my chest. I pressed my hand over my heart, but when I felt nothing I stopped. I could easily give myself a panic attack. How long would it take to get used to this? Would I ever? Had I really ever noticed my heartbeat when I had one?

  And what happened now? I couldn’t go to school anymore, obviously. I’d have to take classes online. And did I have to stay here with the Drakes? And did I have to hang out with just vampires now? What about my family? How could I see my mother only at night? Wouldn’t she get suspicious? Especially since no face powder in the world could cover the blue veins. If I told her the truth, would she believe me? Would she start drinking again? My head whirled.

  Shower now, deep thoughts later.

  The bathroom was next door, with a huge shower tiled in painted ceramic. There were fluffy towels and pretty soaps. I stood under the hot water for nearly half an hour, washing away the dust of the ghost town, the dirt from the maze, the ashes from the fire, the sweat of my bloodchange. The water was brown as it circled the drain. I washed my hair again. My fingertips were wrinkly when I finally stepped out in a cloud of steam, wrapped in a towel.

  I eyed the toilet speculatively. Did vampires pee? I didn’t have to go right now, but was that because I’d been dehydrated and feverish for so long?

  I shook my head. I had to stop all this thinking or I’d freak myself right out. The point was, I was relatively okay, for a dead girl anyway, and I wasn’t alone. It could have been much, much worse. I could have been left to starve horribly and turned into a Hel-Blar.

  When I went back into my room to get dressed, it smelled differently, like licorice. I glanced around for Connor but no one was there. There was a book on the dresser, however, and a note with his handwriting. For you, Christabel. Happy Birthday. Connor.

  The book was old and lined with fabric the color of green opals. The pages were as thin as moth wings and full of poetry. I recognized Shelley and Coleridge right away. It smelled like libraries and dust. It was an antique. I sat on the edge of the bed and smiled stupidly at it until my damp towel dried and began to itch.

  Just because I was a vampire now didn’t mean I wasn’t still me. And I didn’t sit around thinking dreamy thoughts about cute boys.

  I made myself get dressed in the clothes and some of my stuff Uncle Stuart must have brought me. The jeans were torn and soft, the tight T-shirt had a faded Ramones album cover. I put on my combat boots, like armor, even though I was in a friendly house. Connor’s mom was scary. I remembered her from evening barbecues at the lake when I was little.

  I clutched my new poetry book as if it were a shield.

  Chapter 24

  Connor

  When I checked on Christabel, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding the book of poetry I’d given her. She dropped it when she saw me, looking embarrassed.

  I hoped that was a good sign.

  “Hey,” I said quietly, leaning on the doorframe. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “I guess so.” She held out her arm, traced with blue veins. “It’s just weird. Really, really weird.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” I added. The knowledge of it burned.

  She frowned. “But you did save me. You got me out of there. You ran all the way home carrying me.”

  “I didn’t save you from the stake.”

  She made a face, her fangs poking out slightly. It was cute as hell. “This isn’t a comic book, Connor. You can’t be everywhere at once.” She still looked befuddled and probably would for a while. “It doesn’t feel real.” She winced when the wind slammed one of her bedroom shutters against the outside wall. “Even if my ears are wicked sensitive.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” I promised. “We all did.”

  “My mom is going to freak right out.”

  “Have you called her?” I asked, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind me. She raised an eyebrow. “Six nosy brothers who eavesdrop,” I explained, sitting next to her.

  “Oh.” She flicked on her MP3 player. Music flooded over us.

  “So?” I pressed. “Your mom?”

  She shook her head. “No way. How do you even begin to explain something like this over the phone? Plus, she’s in rehab for at least three months. I’ll tell her when she’s been out for a while and I can actually see her.” She swallowed. “What do I do now?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  She leaned in closer to me. She felt different now. Her skin was cooler, her eyes were lighter, and she was less fragile.

  “You’re still Christabel,” I whispered, lifting a long reddish blond curl off her shoulder. “You’re still you.”

  “I wonder.”

  “Quick—first three lines of “The Highwayman”?” I asked.

  She answered like it was a pop quiz. “ ‘The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor.’ ”

  “See?” I grinned. “Still you.”

  Some of the tension left her shoulders. “You’re pretty smart, Connor,” she said. “And you’re nice, too.”

  I was nice.

  Otherwise known as the Kiss of Death.

  If she called me “cute,” my humiliation would be complete.

  I eased back, sighing. I could actually feel the rusty bite of disappointment in my chest. I wasn’t surprised, though. Lucy had already told me the kind of guy Christabel went for. It was just my luck that I was falling for her—and falling hard.

  “And you like bad boys,” I said evenly. I wasn’t going to beg or weep or gnash my teeth.

  At least, not in front of her.

  I got up to leave before I made an ass of myself.

  “I like you,” she corrected me softly, catching my hand in hers before I could move away. She tugged once and I sat back down, staring at her.

  I must have heard that wrong.

  “What?”

  Apparently Quinn got all the suave in the genetic lottery and the bastard didn’t leave any for me.

  “I like you,” she repeated.

  Maybe I didn’t need the suave after all.

  Which was good because I knew my grin was decidedly goofy.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, all right, then.” I hauled her over to sit in my lap, curving my hand around her waist. Her hair draped over my arm. The heel of her combat boot bumped my shin. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  “I’ve always gone for bad boys before,” she said. “We had heat. Lots of heat.”

  “Not loving this,” I pointed out drily.

  She grinned. “Just listen. We had nothing but heat. They didn’t know about me and I didn’t know about them. I liked it that way. There was no risk that one of them would drop by and find my mother passed out at the kitchen table.” She ran a hand through my hair. It was really hard to concentrate on what she was saying. She smelled like cinnamon and she was running her fingers through my hair. “I thought it had to be one or the other—hot or nice. But maybe it doesn’t. Maybe there are other options worth exploring.”

  I closed the small space between us with every intention of kissing her until she forgot she’d ever liked bad boys in the first place.

  “But am I under the influence of the infamous Drake pheromones?” she asked just before my lips touched hers. “I mean, is this just biology or chemistry?”

  “Maybe I’m under the influence of your pheromones,” I pointed out.

  She blinked. “Is that possible?”

  I shook my head. “No. Vampire pheromones don’t work on other vampires,” I told her. Except for Solange’s, but she didn’t need to know that yet. “Christa?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Shut u
p now.”

  She was laughing when I finally closed my mouth over hers. The kiss caught like a spark in a dry field. I’d thought I was feeling ordinary bloodlust that first night in the ghost town, but I wasn’t. It was her. Just her. Our tongues met and I could taste her, drink her, practically breathe her. I couldn’t get close enough. Her hand tightened in my hair and we melted back onto the bed. There were lips and hands and the burn of want in my veins, sweeter than blood. When she lifted her head, her lips were slightly swollen, her eyes heavy lidded.

  “Worth exploring?” I asked hoarsely.

  She smiled in a way that made me forget my own name.

  “Definitely worth exploring.”

  Chapter 25

  Lucy

  I was officially a student of Helios-Ra Academy.

  Weird.

  Christabel was okay. I’d wanted to visit her myself, but I didn’t have a car anymore and Mom needed to get to work. I had to trust everyone’s assurances that Christabel really was fine, especially since she wasn’t ready for the temptation of humans yet. She was at the Drakes’, recovering and learning about her new life. Or death. Whatever.

  And I was learning to be a vampire hunter.

  My mom pulled away from the school only after making me promise for the third time that I would double my sun salutations, meditate at least once a week, and come home to visit as much as possible. She was a little teary. It was nothing compared to the guilt trip I’d gotten from Nathan. And I still hadn’t talked to Solange, but Nicholas swore she was sorry. He also swore we’d find a way to see each other. Vampires weren’t exactly a regular occurrence on campus, even if they were treaty vampires. But Quinn and Hunter managed, so we would, too.

  It was late afternoon and the sun was already behind the mountain, making the crisp autumn day crisper and filling it with blue shadows. Students jogged around the track and poured in a steady stream between the dorm and the library and gym. According to my schedule, this was a break between classes, which would resume at eight o’clock and go on until midnight. I was already on a similar schedule, staying up late to hang out with Nicholas.

  I had a map and my room assignment and a belly full of butterflies. I wasn’t nervous around vampires, even when they were cranky. But this school was already making my palms sweat. I was behind and I sided with the vampires—most of the time.

  This should be interesting.

  I forced myself to ignore two girls who stared at me and then started whispering the moment I passed them. I heard “Drakes” and “princess.” The path was lined with birch trees and led me to the dorm’s front doors, which looked like something out of a medieval cathedral. They were solid oak with metal hinges and narrow pointed windows on either side.

  Inside, it looked like the old house it had once been over a hundred years ago, before modern additions and stampeding students. The staircase looked original, polished wood with a carved banister. I dragged my stuff toward it. There were doors everywhere, leading to bedrooms and common areas. A guy in a baseball cap ran past me, yelling something back to his roommate and nearly knocking me over. He stumbled to a stop, dropping his Frisbee.

  “Sorry! Hey, you’re the new girl.”

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “Is it that obvious?”

  He shrugged. “Not a lot of us here. And you scream hippie.”

  “Guilty,” I said, unoffended. I was wearing my mom’s favorite crystal, after all, and wraparound sandals with my patched jeans. Plus, my parents were legendary in Violet Hill.

  “I’m Malcolm,” he introduced himself. “You must be the famous Lucky Hamilton.”

  I winced. “It’s Lucy and, oh God,” I groaned. “What are they saying about me?”

  “That you were there when Hope tried to take down the Drakes.”

  “She’s was a bitch.” I paused. “Please tell me she’s not your aunt or something?”

  “Dude, no.” He looked curious. “I heard your boyfriend’s a vampire. Is that true?”

  “Um, yeah. It is.” I lifted my chin, prepared to fight for Nicholas’s honor.

  “Too bad.” Malcolm said, teeth flashing white in his dark face when he shot me a grin that looked almost disappointed.

  “Malcolm!” one of his friends yelled through the open window. “Let’s go!”

  “They want this.” He lifted the Frisbee. “See ya around, hippie.”

  I started up the stairs feeling a little better. He seemed nice. And with Hunter and Chloe, I now knew a total of three people. I could do this.

  And then a cluster of girls sneered at me.

  “Your boyfriend’s really a vampire?” one of them asked. “God, this place used to have standards.”

  I looked her up and down doubtfully. “If you say so.”

  Then I marched up the stairs while they whispered to each other. My room was on the second floor, down the hall and wedged into the back corner. Number 207. I knocked before going in.

  I’d kind of hoped my roommate would be out so I could acclimate on my own. No such luck. She was sitting at her desk, wearing an ironed school T-shirt and the regulation cargo pants. There was an identical outfit folded neatly on the bare bed. Gah. School uniforms. I’d forgotten about that part.

  “Hi,” I said cheerfully, determined not to let the end of the freedom to dress myself bring me down. “Are you Sarita?”

  “Hi.” She smiled back at me. “Lucky?”

  “Just Lucy.”

  She frowned, checking a list in an uncreased folder next to her keyboard. “It says Lucky Moon Hamilton.”

  “They even put my middle name in there? Were they trying to mortify me?” I dropped my knapsack.

  “It’s school policy,” Sarita replied, puzzled.

  She was scarily organized, between that folder and the perfectly sharpened pencils in a cup with the school logo on the side. Her bed was neatly made with military precision, and her shoes were lined up at the foot. There was no music playing and no posters on her side of the room at all. I was planning on plastering the wall over my desk with Jensen Ackles and Johnny Depp. My mom had already put together a box of Nag Champa incense for me, and I’d glued rhinestones on all my boring black binders.

  Sarita was going to hate me.

  I ripped open the garbage bag serving as the suitcase for my sheets and dumped them on the bed. My fleece blanket was printed with Jack Sparrow’s face. He stared at Sarita rakishly. She smiled weakly. I pulled out my laptop and set up my Ganesha statue on my desk next to it for good luck.

  She blinked at his elephant head. “What’s that?”

  “My dad gave it to me. He’s an Indian god.”

  “Oh.”

  “He likes candy.”

  “Oh.”

  Silence pulsed between us. My roommate thought I was a freak. I was just scared she was going to force me to make my bed every morning.

  This was going to be even harder than I’d thought.

  “That dresser over there is yours,” Sarita offered finally, politely. It was pine and dented all over. “And the closet there. There’s a kitchenette around the corner, and the common room is by the stairs. That’s where the TV is.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  The room was small. Between the two beds, two dressers, and two desks, there wasn’t a lot of room left. I liked to dance around when I studied. That might prove difficult.

  “There’s a study curfew from four thirty to six thirty, when everyone’s supposed to be quiet,” she felt compelled to add. “And lights out by one thirty a.m.”

  “Are there a lot of school rules?” I asked cautiously. I had a feeling she’d know.

  “They’re all for our benefit,” she said. “And you get demerits or detention if you break them.”

  “What’s standard detention?” I asked, laughing. “Because I have a feeling I’m going to need to know.”

  She actually looked scandalized. I didn’t know sixteen-year-old girls who were learning to stab pointy sticks into undead creatures
of the night could even be scandalized.

  “It’s usually kitchen duty,” she finally answered. “I’ve never actually had a detention.”

  Of course not. I shrugged. “Well, I’ll let you know what it’s like.”

  She swallowed. “Um …” She trailed off uncomfortably. “Vampires aren’t allowed on campus.”

  Clearly my reputation preceded me here, too. All I needed was for her to find the condoms my mother had undoubtedly snuck into all of my bags.

  “That’s fine. I don’t think my boyfriend would like it much here, anyway.”

  Her eyes went so wide they nearly bulged. It was probably wrong of me to find that amusing. Or to want to take a photo of Nicholas with his fangs out and wearing a black cape lined with red satin and then hang it over my pillow in a heart-shaped frame.

  Before my warped sense of humor could alienate her completely, there was a knock at the door. Hunter poked her head in. “Hey, guys.”

  Sarita straightened in her chair, as if Hunter were a teacher. And as if she hadn’t already been sitting sword-straight before. “Hi, Hunter. Can I help you with something?”

  Hunter smiled. “Just want to borrow your roommate.” She met my gaze pointedly. She looked serious. Vampire serious. I knew the expression intimately. “I need her help. Right away.”

  “Sure.” I leaped to my feet, probably a little too eagerly. It was definitely a bad sign that whatever crisis was brewing seemed like more fun than sitting here in an awkward silence with my straightlaced roommate. One minute down, eight more months to go.

  “You know Lucky?” Sarita asked.

  “Sure, we train together.”

  “Malcolm said there was a hippie in the building.” Chloe grinned over Hunter’s shoulder. “I wanted to call an exterminator.”

  I grinned back. “We’re like cockroaches. You can’t even spray.” I grabbed my bag. “Bye, Sarita.” I closed the door behind me. “What’s going on? Also, good timing.”

  “Come down to our room,” Hunter said quietly. “It’s more private.”

  When my phone vibrated I expected it to be Nathan with another guilt trip, but the text was from Hunter.